The library was a tomb of physical records, which was exactly what I needed. Digital footprints were for people who wanted Batman to find them in twenty minutes. Analog paper? That took legwork.
I sat in a back corner, a stack of microfiche and old newspapers surrounding me. I didn't read them; I scanned them. With the Sharingan active, the three tomoe spinning in a slow, rhythmic blur, I didn't need to process the words. I just had to see them. My brain recorded every headline, every grainy photo of the "flying men" in Metropolis, and every local report of strange lights over Mount Justice from the last decade.
Instant recall. I closed my eyes and could "see" page forty-two of the 1998 Happy Harbor Gazette. I could see the exact curvature of the "Souvenir" shop sign that sat three miles from the mountain's entrance.
"Power at 12.2%," the Ring whispered.
"Shut up," I thought. "I'm working."
I needed a catalyst. The Team was young, eager, and—most importantly—operating under a "covert" mandate that they frequently botched by being too heroic. If I caused a controlled localized surge of energy near the old power plant on the outskirts of town, the League's sensors would trip. Red Tornado or Black Canary would see it, but they'd likely send the kids to check it out first. A "training" exercise for them; a recruitment pitch for me.
I left the library as the sun began to bleed over the Atlantic. I didn't look like a threat; I looked like a kid in a hoodie who hadn't slept. Perfect.
The power plant was a skeleton of rusted steel and cracked cooling towers. I climbed to the top of the primary turbine housing, the wind whipping my hair into my stinging eyes. My head throbbed—the sensory input from the Sharingan was a lot for a sixteen-year-old brain to handle all at once.
"Ring. Construct: Geometric focal point. Something that looks like a containment failure."
"Energy cost for sustained high-output visual: 3%," the AI warned.
"Do it."
I held my hand out. Instead of a fist or a shield, I visualized a series of interlocking green rings, spinning rapidly. I didn't need them to do anything—I just needed them to leak energy. I forced my will into the spin, making the green light flicker and "sputter" like a dying engine. To any sensor in the mountain, it would look like a rogue kinetic source trying to stabilize itself.
I felt the drain immediately. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. My Sharingan tracked the spinning rings, memorizing the exact frequency of the flicker so I could replicate it later without the Ring's help if I had to.
Then, I heard it. A faint whistle of displaced air.
I didn't turn around. I let the construct "falter," the green rings shattering into harmless sparks. I slumped against a rusted pipe, breathing hard, making sure my eyes stayed red and the tomoe were visible to anyone approaching from behind.
"Who's there?" I called out, my voice cracking just enough to sound genuine.
I didn't need to look. My kinetic vision picked up the displacement of air long before the boots hit the metal floor.
"Easy," a calm, authoritative voice said. "We're not here to hurt you."
I turned slowly.
Aqualad. Robin. Kid Flash.
The Trinity of sidekicks. They looked exactly like the records I'd just memorized, but seeing them in the flesh, seeing the literal aura of discipline around Kaldur and the restless, vibrating energy of Wally West was different.
I let my gaze linger on Robin, whose mask couldn't hide the way his head tilted, analyzing me. I made sure to let the Sharingan fade back to black right as they got a good look.
"You're... them," I said, putting a hand to my temple and stumbling slightly. "From the news."
"And you," Robin stepped forward, his gloved hands hovering near his belt, "are a kid with a very illegal-looking piece of jewelry and eyes that definitely aren't in the medical textbooks. Want to tell us why you're trying to blow up a power plant?"
"I wasn't trying to blow it up," I said a bit annoyed, letting a bit of my natural arrogance through the "scared kid" mask. "I was trying to stop it from blowing me up. I can't turn it off."
I held up the ring. It was at 9%.
"It won't stop humming," I lied, looking directly at Kaldur. "And I don't know where I am."
The hook was set. Now I just had to see if they'd pull me in